


Ships in the Night

by Rocky_T



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: Sometimes things don't work out the way you expected.





	Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Time frame: 3 years after Voyager's return.  
> Many thanks to Seema for her beta.
> 
> Originally written and posted August 2003.

Chakotay smiled politely and downed the contents of his glass in one gulp, hoping he didn't look as bored as he felt. In general, he had very little patience for these types of social affairs, the academic cocktail parties. He didn't know what was worse, sitting through the dull, highly technical presentations which always started off the evening, or the mingling over drinks which followed. The dry little insiders' jokes, the oh-so-witty banter--he didn't have the stomach for it any more, if indeed he ever had. He liked to say he'd gotten his fill of this sort of thing after _Voyager_ 's return years earlier. Of course, then he'd been the center of attention, one of the star attractions. One of the returning heroes, with people hanging on his every word. Now he felt he was just the afterthought, invited simply so as not to offend the guest of honor. 

He glanced over at the knot of people at the other side of the ballroom and then slowly made his way toward them. Just like the last time he'd checked, Seven--Annika, as she was known these days--was surrounded by admirers, all of whom appeared to be completely absorbed in what she was saying. She had given the keynote address for the Astrometric Society that evening, and it had been very well received. As he watched, Seven looked in his direction and smiled, and then turned her attention back to her companions. Her eyes were alight and her cheeks flushed with her success, as she continued to expound on the finer details of her gravimetric pulse research and the applications to hypernavigation. Chakotay really didn't know much about her work, or for that matter, particularly care. But he could tell she wasn't going to be ready to leave any time soon.

He took a quick look at his chronometer. 2315. He stifled a yawn.

"Excuse me."

Chakotay turned around, startled at being addressed. "Yes?"

"Are you acquainted with Dr. Hansen?" the short, balding man asked eagerly, jerking his head in Seven's direction.

Chakotay permitted himself a small smile. "You could say that."

"I was wondering, would you be able to introduce me?"

"What?"

"I've been trying to catch her eye all evening," the man said, gazing wistfully at the throng. "I wanted to tell her how much I enjoyed her presentation. But it's rather hard to attract her attention, if you know what I mean."

Chakotay snorted and then hastily covered it with a cough. "Yeah."

"Too many bigwigs present," the man said knowingly. "Anyone who's anybody in the field is here tonight. Makes it difficult for the 'lesser lights' to get a word in." He laughed in a self-deprecating manner that Chakotay found singularly annoying. Suddenly thrusting his hand out, the man added, "I'm Elias Quentin, by the way. Associate professor of Astrometrics at UCLA. Perhaps you've heard of me, or my work?"

Chakotay belatedly shifted his glass to his other hand. "Chakotay," he said, trying not to let his distaste at Quentin's clammy palm show. "Sorry, but I haven't. Heard of you, that is."

"Ah." Quentin pursed his lips, whether in annoyance or resignation, Chakotay couldn't tell. "Which institution are you affiliated with, Dr. Chakotay?"

"I'm not," Chakotay said briefly. He decided not to correct Quentin's use of the academic title; at one point he _had_ thought about pursuing a doctorate himself, but that had since fallen by the wayside like so many other things in his life.

"Excuse me?" Quentin looked puzzled.

"I'm not an engineer or an astrometrics expert," Chakotay said. "I'm an archaeologist by training, though I haven't been active in the field for nearly two decades." 

Quentin's expression changed immediately, and he took a step back. "Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you." He darted away quickly.

Chakotay didn't know whether to be insulted or amused by the other man's abrupt dismissal. He opted for the latter. What did he care that some second-rate scientist had decided he wasn't worth wasting time on? He almost laughed out loud at the sight of Quentin jockeying for position around the circle of Seven's admirers. _Good luck to you, little man_ , he thought with more than a touch of contempt. _You'd have been better off having me introduce you, after all. Because when the party's over, I'm still the one she's going home with._

He raised his glass to his lips and then grimaced upon finding it empty. He made his way over to the bar, ignoring the nagging thought he'd already had far too much to drink.

"Whiskey, neat," he said to the bartender. "And not synthahol. I want the real thing."

"Yes, sir." A glass materialized before him, on a napkin embossed with the Astrometric Society seal. Chakotay leaned back and closed his eyes as he savored the trickle of alcohol down his throat. It felt good to just sit there, letting the hum of nearby conversations wash over him, not having to make any stilted comments of his own, not having to think at all.

He felt a swift rush of annoyance when someone bumped into him, interrupting his reverie. He was about to say something when a voice sounded loudly, right next to his ear.

"I'm telling you, Jasper, it was the damnedest thing I've ever seen. I was sure it was going to one of the biggest fiascoes in the annals of Starfleet--but at the last minute she managed to pull off a miracle! Unbelievable!"

"That's Janeway for you--they say there's nobody today who can match her when it comes to something like this. Look at her track record--the Cardassians, the Turellians, and then there was that business with the Orion Syndicate and the weapons smugglers. Why should the Romulans be any different?"

Chakotay opened his eyes. Two men in Starfleet uniforms stood nearby; it was obvious they had been the ones speaking.

"You've got a point there," the first speaker, a white-haired man, said sagely. "There's a reason she made Admiral so quickly."

Jasper nodded. "Most folks assumed it was all due to her getting _Voyager_ home, but when you look at what she's accomplished _since_ then, anything that happened in the Delta Quadrant pales to insignificance!"

Chakotay stood abruptly, overcome by an urge to get away from the bar, out of the hotel. His head spun, protesting the sudden change in position, accompanied by a feeling of nausea. He strode rapidly toward the exit, then stopped just outside the door. He couldn't leave--Seven would miss him, wouldn't she? Immediately on the heels of that thought came another: _Yeah, if she even notices I'm gone._

The doorman glanced at him curiously. Chakotay waved his hand and attempted a smile, hoping to reassure the man that he was fine and had everything under control. He was glad when the doorman turned away.

Chakotay hesitated a moment longer and then made his way down the street. Despite the hour, there were still a number of people around, laughing and chatting. He took deep breaths, hoping it would dispel his dizziness. After three or four blocks he stopped, shivering in the chill wind whipping off the Bay, unsure of where to go next. He could return to the party, of course, or else go home. Neither option was particularly appealing, however.

He saw a public comm booth a few meters away and without quite understanding why, entered. He tapped in a number he knew by heart, yet had never called. He waited, scarcely daring to breathe, listening to the beeps. No answer. Finally, just when he was ready to disconnect, someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello, Kathryn," he said, somewhat unsteadily to the woman whose image appeared on the screen.

"Chakotay," she said, her eyes widening. "My God, it's been years! How are you?" He couldn't stop himself from staring. She didn't seem unhappy to see him, just surprised. Her white robe was loosely belted; she immediately pulled the edges closer together. 

He followed the motion with his eyes, noted too how her shoulder-length hair hung loose, a bit tousled, as opposed to the sleek professional Admiral's bun he'd seen on the newsvids. With a sudden stab of guilt, he realized it must be after midnight. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping," Kathryn said, casting a quick glance over her shoulder before returning her attention to him. "Chakotay, is everything all right? Where are you?"

"At the moment, I'm standing on the corner of Washington and Embarcadero," he said. She didn't say anything, just nodded encouragingly. "I was at the Astrometrics Society gala at the Embarcadero Center--your name came up..." his voice trailed off and he realized how disjointed he must sound. "I just wanted to talk to you," he finished lamely.

She looked at him for a long moment. "What were you doing at the Astrometrics Society gala?" she asked.

"Seven--I mean, Annika--gave a paper."

Once more, she nodded. "That's right, her research in gravimetric pulses. I read the abstract in the most recent issue of _Quantum Navigations_ \--fascinating work! You must be so proud of her."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, of course."

Kathryn smiled fondly. "It's pretty amazing when you consider how far we've all come in the last few years. Or maybe not so amazing after all--I always knew our people would go on to accomplish great things." She paused. "I hear from Tom and B'Elanna every now and then--they keep me up to date on what everyone's doing."

He thought back to the last time he'd seen the Paris family, at Harry Kim's engagement party. Seven had come late, due to a last-minute difficulty at work. He'd spent the evening gracefully evading too-probing questions about his own activities. What was there to say? Since _Voyager_ 's return, he'd been drifting. There was no other word for it. He'd resigned from Starfleet almost immediately and never looked back. There _had_ been a brief flurry of interest in him by a number of universities, but he'd quickly discovered they were more interested in the prestige of his name on their letterhead than they were in his talents. Instead, he'd been content to follow Seven as she became integrated into Terran society and embarked on her own career. He told himself she needed the stability he provided, but lately the nagging thoughts arose that perhaps _he_ was the one clinging to _her_ , that he could not stand on his own. 

Kathryn's name had come up at the engagement party, too, he remembered. Tom had remarked the Admiral had suddenly been called away, off-planet, but she hoped she'd be back in time for the actual wedding. Seven had been most interested in hearing about the Admiral, the details of her mission, but Chakotay had wandered into the next room, on the pretext of getting more ice. Ignoring the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he heard her name.

Now Kathryn gave him a questioning glance. "Neither Tom nor B'Elanna were too clear on what you've been up to."

"Not very much," he said. He forced a smile. "Seven's busy here in San Francisco. Lately I spend most of my time at the cabin--we bought an old place out in New Mexico last year, and I've been slowly renovating it, making it habitable."

"That sounds like something you'd enjoy," Kathryn smiled. "I imagine it must be very convenient for your work as well, the location--"

"I'm not working," he interrupted. 

"I'm sorry," Kathryn said. She gave him a puzzled glance. "I thought I heard you had received an offer from the University at New Mexico."

"I did. I didn't accept it."

"I see," she said, though he could see that she didn't. She hastily changed the subject. "I've been meaning to call you, I really have. My only excuse is I've been very busy lately. I don't think I've spent more than two months on Earth in as many years--and none of them consecutively," she finished with a laugh. "The Admiralty certainly keeps me hopping."

"I've heard. You've had a number of successes to your credit. Starfleet's 'Golden Girl'--to hear some people talk, you can do no wrong."

Her mouth tightened imperceptibly. "I've worked very hard to get to where I am, Chakotay."

He looked away, regretted his biting tone of a minute earlier, regretted, too, the stupid impulse that had led him to call her tonight. "I know you have. I'm sorry."

"Chakotay."

Unwillingly, he looked up to meet her steady gaze. "Yes?"

The expression in her blue-gray eyes was unreadable. "Why did you call?"

The unconscious echo of his own thoughts was too much. He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

She leaned forward. "That's not an answer." When he didn't respond, she added, "Not that I'm not happy to hear from you, but it's been a long time."

"Maybe I wanted to renew old acquaintances. You know, for auld lang syne?" he said flippantly.

She gestured impatiently. "Why now, tonight?"

He hesitated. "I heard your name mentioned. At the party--some Starfleet brass were there. They were talking about your recent achievements. Made it sound like you'd pulled off a miracle when no one thought it was possible." He lowered his voice. "And it, it reminded me of the way you used to do that sort of thing on a regular basis--back on _Voyager_."

She smiled, the look in her eyes softening from memory. "Yes, those were the days, weren't they? We had no idea if we'd survive into the next week, let alone the next hour. All those desperate gambits that no one in their right mind would even consider. But afterwards, we'd look back and laugh, pat ourselves on the back for our 'innovative' thinking."

" _Your_ innovative thinking, you mean." He could feel the gathering harshness in his voice as he finished, "I was just along for the ride."

"Chakotay, you know that's not true," she protested. "What about our encounters with Species 8472, to give just one example? I couldn't have done it--any of it--without you."

"You're very kind."

"It's the truth." 

He nodded, a bit unwillingly, but suddenly too weary to argue. He looked at her again, in his mind's eye seeing her standing on the bridge of a ship, her hands on her hips in a defensive posture. Or in the long afternoon shadows cast by an alien sun, standing in front of a cabin on a planet thousands of light years away. The passing years had scarcely touched her, or so it seemed to him. She was still as beautiful as she had ever been, the additional lines only serving to highlight a face that had seen so much, and had not only endured but triumphed.

"I miss you," he said, the words tumbling out of their own accord.

"And I've missed you, too," she said warmly. "Our friendship is too precious to let it just slip away."

His mouth felt suddenly dry. "What I mean is--"

At that moment, a male voice called from another room, "Kathryn? Aren't you coming back to bed?"

Kathryn turned immediately. "I'll be right there, darling," she called. 

Chakotay heard the voice speak again. "Is it HQ? Do you have to go in?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Just an old friend calling." Kathryn turned back to Chakotay.

"I'm sorry, I should let you go," he said automatically, his mind having trouble taking in the ramifications of what he'd just heard.

She nodded. "It _is_ rather late, yes." Her eyes met his once more. "I'm really glad you called, Chakotay. Please give my best to Seven. Depending on my schedule, maybe we can all get together for dinner one night."

He forced a smile and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She smiled in return and put her hand out, as if she could reach through the screen and touch him, an old familiar gesture which made him draw in his breath sharply.

He broke the connection, the final image of her inexplicably blurred. He leaned against the console, trying to calm the pounding of his heart, assailed by a sudden sense of loss.


End file.
